


Haven

by welcomebackpartyhardy



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gardens & Gardening
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-09 10:41:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16448351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welcomebackpartyhardy/pseuds/welcomebackpartyhardy
Summary: After almost an exhuasting and excruciating decade out of the ice, Steve Rogers finds solace in the most unlikely of places....and people...





	1. Chapter 1

Steve was a walker.

 

It was a little known fact to most-- well he wouldn't really call it a fact when it was more like a pretty apparent habit. No matter the mood, happy or sad, Steve found himself walking to process whatever he had in mind. Something about focusing on getting one foot in front of the other, of being lost in a sea of people and blending in as just another face in the crowd gave him a sense of peace and normalcy he achingly missed. And on a day like today, Steve really needed a good walk.

Litigation concerning Bucky's status as a wanted fugitive was at an all time high. The constant back and forth with lawyers, the general public, and judicial and political figures who were either the key to Bucky's eternal incarceration or ultimate freedom was taking a toll on Steve. He often felt like the buffer to every blow and as much as it often hurt he'd continue to do it for one of the most important people in his life. But today, today Steve really needed to escape the void of angry and frustrated voices who insisted that the man he'd known his whole life was an irredeemable monster.

So he walked. With each step the static buzz of grief seemed to lift off his clouded mind, a breeze of calm filling his lungs with every breath of dewy air. The remnants of petrichor lingering in the air, an always pleasant scent he thought. The browns and greys of Brooklyn filling him with a kind of unique warmth he could never really feel anywhere else, even if this place had changed into a mostly unrecognizable homeland while he'd lain frozen in time. Sometimes the change felt excruciatingly jarring but as Steve rounded the corner to the world behind his block he'd never bothered to venture into, he set his sights on an explosion of life. The welcome kind of change brought a smile to his face.

 

He didn't know much about plants, Sam had gotten him a small peace lily as a welcome home present once, but he'd killed it within his first week in the new apartment. Regardless of his lack of awareness of plants, he could not resist to cross the threshold of the old iron gate which enclosed a world of greenery, a community garden he guessed. The air of the place felt almost magical, a sense of calm he'd long become unfamiliar with settling in his chest. With every crunching step he took upon the charming trails of dirt, mulch, and stone the calm began to envelope him further. It struck him, here it was in the heart of the city... _quiet_ beautiful life.

 

He happily watched as a mother and her small child with matching pom poms of tight curls picked a small basket full of ripe and bright red tomatoes from their emerald green vines, talks of helping each other make spaghetti sauce for dinner coaxing a smile on his face. Across the ways, in a half empty flower bed, an older woman with a shock of white hair and sunkissed skin planted new seeds. He wondered just what would bloom from them until she staked a small sign with the words “ _English Cucumbers_ ”  painted on it into the dirt when she had finished watering them. It was the quietest place in all of Brooklyn, he thought. The world seemed to truly go still here, the sun shining just a little bit brighter, color more saturated and alive.

He was so lost in the atmosphere of this little patch of existence that he practically leapt out of his skin when he felt a warm hand tap at his shoulder. Standing just behind him was a woman, absentmindedly removing a pair of neon pink garden gloves, the lovely straw hat upon on her head shading her bright but warm eyes. An amused but kind giggle erupting from her as she spoke:

 

“I'm so sorry. Didn't mean to scare you! You seem new 'round here, just thought I'd just come and say hi. I'm ___.” she said, a friendly hand extended in greeting. Steve shook her hand in his warm grip, giving her an appreciative smile in return.

“Thank you, ma'am. I'm Steve.” He neglected to throw in his last name, he wanted to keep some semblance of normalcy left in this quiet little world for just a little longer.

“Nice to meet you Steve. What brings you to our little patch of heaven? You from around here?” she said, adjusting her hat just a smidge as it began to slide down. Steve noticed a small wisp of dirt on her cheek -- probably from wiping her face with the back of a glove. Her clearly worn blue shirt hugged her comfortably and her well loved pair of jeans sported a couple of tears. She seemed a homey woman to say the least.

“Oh, yeah... I actually live just on the other side of the block. Haven't left my apartment in a few days, thought some fresh air would be nice and stumbled across the place,” he said, “Haven't had much time to explore the ol' neighborhood either, since...since I moved back. Thought I should get better acquainted with it. I wasn't aware a place like this even existed in the middle of Brooklyn! It's beautiful.” He gazed around in wonder, the sparkle of new discovery in his eyes. She gave him a proud grin.

“Thanks Steve. The community works hard to make the garden a safe, welcoming place. Glad to see our efforts are working, seeing as it coaxed you in here,” she said with a sweet laugh, “Would you like a tour?” Steve couldn't help but beam at the idea of being introduced this serene little world.

 

She beckoned him to follow her, traversing the flowering maze and its pathways with keen experience and with little effort or even need to look at where she was going, sometimes walking backwards as she talked to Steve. It was clear to Steve she was at home here, knowing the name of every plant, vegetable, and flower in the garden as they passed by and just who had planted them. Her connection to the life, but more importantly, to the people in the community made Steve want so desperately to root himself in the world as he had once been. She had a story for every blossom and peaking carrot top; it reminded him of the stories he had for every alleyway and rooftop in his long forgotten world. To his own surprise, he granted himself the extension of human connection without fear or hesitation, and inquired about every person who these sprigs of life belonged to.

 

“These are Ms. Diaz's tomatoes, anybody can pick them as long as they leave enough for her to make her delicious sauces,” she said with a fond smile for the woman, an unpicked tomato in a swirl of the colors purple and yellow cradled in her hand. “Oh! And those are Mr. Yao's eggplants,” she continued, “He makes a delicious eggplant parm with them. Best in the city! And theeese,” she said, a glint of personal pride in her eyes as she knelt beside a shady spot of flowerbed, “are my babies.”

 

Steve gazed down to see a bushel of some of the strangest looking flowers he'd ever seen. Granted, Steve didn't have much experience with flowers, he was used to the undoubtedly recognizable roses, sunflowers, and daisies, so these were truly a mystery to him. He watched as her regloved hands grazed the dirt around them, plucking dead leaves and twigs from the flower bed and tossing them out. The plant was truly a curiosity the more he looked at them.

Long deep red stems elegantly sprung forth and hung from a sparse but lovely bush and upon each stem dangled heart shaped blossoms with curled ends in such a strikingly fierce shade of purple they almost didn't seem real. And to make them far more striking: a single pearl like dot seem to delicately hang from each blossom. A small giggle broke his concentration:

 

“These are bleeding hearts. They're a bit of a hassle to keep up with and help bloom but I've always liked a good challenge. They only bloom once a year too, you're lucky you got to see them like this! They're fast approaching their end stages now. Not much one for plants are yah Steve?” she said, an eyebrow tilted in soft inquiry.

 

“How could ya’ tell?” he replied with a laugh, a nervous hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

 

“You've had the most _delightful_ look of confusion and wonder on your face this whole time. Funny though, you actually listened and asked questions. The few men who've wandered in here, outside of the old guys of course, usually try to fake some kind of knowledge of botany. It's very silly of course. But I'm glad you've enjoyed the tour! You _have_ enjoyed the tour right?”

 

The playful look on her face gave a Steve a good chuckle. “Oh most definitely ma'am. I'd love to come back here soon. I'm afraid things at work might not make that possible though. It's a real shame. I hate to sound so grim, but this is the calmest I've felt in months. Thank you, really, for showing me around the place” he said, a soft genuine smile crossed his features. It made her a little sad for him. He seemed like a lovely man, a golden glow seemed to emanate from him at all times, goodness she thought. It pained her to catch the glimpses of stress and worry which tried to swim unnoticed in his eyes. That's when she got the idea.

 

“Tell you what. I hope you don't mind, but I'm gonna give you my card. The next time you have a chance to come down here I want you to call me. We're gonna choose something for you to plant,” she said, he began to protest, “No, no buts! This is a _community_ garden Steve and you're a member of the community! Even if you plant whatever it is you like and you can't always take care of it, I'll make sure we all do our part to take care of it till you can come back. Consider it a welcome back to Brooklyn present.” An almost somber look began to cross her face as she continued to speak, “I hate to be presumptuous, you can tell me to shut up if I'm out of line, but you seem like a guy who really needs roots. I watched you for a little bit when you first wandered in here, you seemed a little...lost. Knowing you have something to come back to is a stabilizing feeling. I've been there. This garden gave me that, saved my life really...but that's a story for another day.”

Steve felt an immeasurable warmth bloom in his chest. He'd always believed that most people were inherently good and kind, it was one of the things which he kept in mind, firmly believed in, and which gave him the strength to continue to carry the mantle of Captain America...even if it was pretty hard one to carry most of the time. To have someone remind of him of the extent of that goodness was a blessing and instead of usually refusing such a kind gesture, Steve nodded in agreement.

He took the card she proceeded to hand him from her back pocket. “I promise I'll call. But on one condition...” he said. That got a small jolt of curious delight from her.

 

“Oh really now? And just what would that condition be?” she said, an amused smirk directed at him.

 

“Teach me. Teach me everything you know because, ma'am...I'm gonna need all the help I can get!” he said with a booming laugh. The usually quiet air of the garden began to twinkle with the sound of their laughter.

 

And for once in a long time... _Steve looked forward to something_ .

 


	2. Chapter 2

A year had come and gone, a whole entire year. And yet, every day she thought about the stranger with the sad blue eyes and an unshakable, radiating goodness. She hoped he would call, or grace the garden with his presence once more. Every time she heard the familiar shriek of the old iron gate ring through the garden, a twinkle of hope stuttered in ther chest, only to find it wasn't the fateful stranger. Although it had been but a passing moment in time, she felt Steve coming to the garden had been a special moment, perhaps a simple twist of fate. She was usually right about these things, and even if she had no idea what purpose she held in that twist of fate, she was so  _ sure _ she'd see him again.

 

_ And again she would see him. Just not the way she ever imagined... _

A little after the start of a new spring, her bleeding hearts sprouting forth to blossom from their hibernation, the busy bodies of her community gardeners finding themselves plucking and planting in full swing once more, she found herself curled on the couch, mindlessly viewing the TV. Mindless of course, until a familiar face made itself known on the glowing screen.

There, descending the stairs of one of the city's courthouses and surrounded by hordes of reporters and cameras, face painted with a worn out look, was Steve. His body stiff yet protectively shielding that of a slightly less burly but far more exhausted looking man with dark brown hair. The reporter' voice making it known the man in fact was one James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, formerly known as the Winter Soldier.

A bell of recognition went off in her head at the title. She remembered some gardeners and colleagues at work mentioning the trial of a man they reffered to as the Winter Soldier. It was a great source of talk for months, apparantly, but she had never had much time for it nor for whatever TV show highlights they chatted about around the water cooler. She was far too busy managing her graphics assignments and handling her supervisorial duties at the garden; it was a day to day life of work, sleep, quiet lonely dinners, and service to her little slice of Brooklyn.

But never in the stray water cooler talks had anyone ever mentioned the name Steve, let one the name Steve Rogers. No, they talked only about the man with the title of Captain America, the All-American icon, the Sentinel of Liberty, the Man Out of Time, not the seemingly sweet but quietly lost man she'd met in the sunshine of her favorite place on earth. And even now, looking at him as a pixelated composition on her television, he looked nothing like the perfect stranger she'd been thinking about for months.

This man held the same beauty, the same physique, the same features, but this man held a mask up to the flashing cameras that recorded his every movement. There on his face was written a quiet preservation, a closed look behind the eyes, a clenched jaw so tight she could swear that any minute he would burst, but somehow she knew he wouldn't. This was a man far too calculated, an actor really, far too experinced with the chaotic potential of the media and the general public. Here was a man who'd been through much, much worse, she realized.

And now more than ever did she wish he would step foot in the garden again, to find the smile and the laughter he'd shared with the plants and the ground beneath their feet. As she watched him enter a waiting vehicle, mask unmoving, she sent out a silent prayer that soon, ever so soon, her phone would ring...

 

\-------------

 

Steve sat at the edge of his bed, a cold relief overcoming his body as he sat in silence for the first time in months. Relief that his best friend was now a free man, relief that there was no legal weight or reason to subject Bucky to far more confinement and injustice, yet Steve could not shake the stress of the ordeal from his shoulders. It perched tauntingly upon them, purposefully ruining any expectation of relaxation that Steve had sworn to himself would come at the end of it all.

He’d taken hot showers, read books, drawn in his sketchbook, punched it out, even meditated as Sam had suggested in the week after Bucky’s verdict. But Steve could not shake the weight of every up and down the trial had taken within the year. It wasn’t even him on the stand, but when one of the people you care about is in trouble, their troubles becomes yours. And Steve, being the good man to his core that all his friends knew him to be, could not let his brother in soul and turmoil carry the burden of one more misery.

Getting up from his spot on the bed, Steve walked to the living room of his Brooklyn apartment, looking for a task to occupy his hands and the unfamiliar silence around him. And boy, did he have many a task: his apartment was now a vision of frantic chaos. He hadn’t much resided in it as a result of the trial, choosing to spend most nights at Sam and Bucky’s place, but when he had it was in flashes of mindless mobility. Dropped changes of clothing littered the floor, quickly thrown dishes piled high in the sink from rushed dinners of takeout and whatever he could muster the energy to cook, and his coffee table was drowning in tossed pieces of junk mail. He hated to admit it, but even before the trial Steve wasn’t the tidiest man in the world. It was however,  _ never  _ this bad.

So he sat there with yet another housewarming gift, a paper shredder ( _ courtesy of Maria Hill _ ),

tackling the growing hill of junk mail, wondering just who let useless advertising get to this point as he shredded another sales flyer. He’d almost gotten to the bottom of it all when he finally noticed the crisp white card with its shiny black letters and prettily embossed flowers. A sudden wave of warmth hit him reading the name upon it, recalling the unreal beauty of Brooklyn’s little heaven on earth guarded by its kind gatekeeper.

He was hesitant at first. A year had gone by, after all. He had made a promise, but did a promise like this have an expiration date? Would she find him rude to call after all this time? He would have never called had he not heard Sam’s warm but bright voice in his head urging him to take a chance. He laughed at himself a little, noticing his heart rate go up and hands turn faintly clammy as he dialed the number on the card. Taking a deep breath in and out, Steve waited nervously as the phone began to ring. He was close to hanging up by the 4th ring until a familiar voice made itself known.

“(y/n) (y/l/n) speaking, how can I help you?” she said, voice as calm and open as the day Steve had happened upon her refuge. It was strange how soothing it was even after a year and one meeting. He chalked it up to her just being one of those undeniably brilliant people.

“Hi Ms. (y/l/n), I don’t know if you remember me, but this is Steve? The guy who wandered into the community garden a few months back? You told me to call you before I paid it a visit again. I’m really sorry, it’s been a while, so I really don’t blame you if you don’t” he said.

 

From her end of the line Steve could hear a light chuckle and what he could only guess was the metallic sound of someone sinking a small trowel into the earth. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what the garden could look like now. Probably still as serene and unbelievably beautiful as the day he wandered into it, he thought.

 

“Please, call me (y/n), no need for formality Steve! Yeah I remember you. It’s been more than a little while hasn’t it? It’s alright though. I...” she said, trailing off, “understand the hold up. I saw what happened.”

Steve’s stomach dropped. His anonymity and normalcy in the eyes of this kind stranger had been such a blessing but now that she knew, would she do what they always did? Would she see him differently? Would she set him on a pedestal he didn’t deserve? Would the help she extended change its nature? Steve had been much too silent, her worry moving her to speak.

“Steve? Steve, it’s okay! Look, I can imagine being in the spotlight must be hard and frustrating, especially when have no control of the way people see you, let alone, I don’t know...idolise you? Jesus that's gotta suck...just,  _ please  _ don’t let this stop you from paying us a visit! I promise I still mean what I said, nothing about helping you has changed and I still think you really need it. If you don’t want to...I-I completely understand” she said, the slight lingering sadness at the end of her statement not lost on Steve.

He gave a deep sigh of relief. He couldn’t doubt the sincerity in her voice but he also could not help approaching the matter with caution. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had said those words to him. Again, he imagined he heard the sound of a friend’s voice telling him to take a chance, this time Bucky’s Brooklyn drawl. He hesitated for a moment before he spoke:

 

“Sunflowers. I want - I want to plant sunflowers,” he said. He heard a sigh and what he swore was laugh of relief from the other line and smiled.

“Okay Steve. Sunflowers, we’ll plant sunflowers. I’ll call and see you soon...” she said with hope tinging her words.

\-------------

 

They met the next day at (y/n)’s favorite nursery, thinking it a good idea to get Steve out and about after months of being cooped up in lawyers’ offices, courtrooms, and quinjets. Steve was hesitant at first, conscious of the fact that his status as a recognisable figure could be a detriment to their little trip. But she assured him it was a safe place, a place he’d no doubt fall in love with the second he stepped inside.

And she was right, smiling brightly while watching Steve in awe at the cactus and succulent varieties on display as they entered the nursery. She knew he didn't know much about anything as they explored the different greenhouses but she found herself endeared by his constant willingness to learn from her. The Steve she met a year ago was slowly dropping the mask once more, eyes beginning to swim with the spirit of inquiry, and more than ready to absorb the color and life around him.

They walked side by side as they continues on to the exotic greenhouse for the sake of Steve’s exploration, (y/n) naming the different species of bizzare flowers and plants he seemed most fascinated by.The carnivorous pitcher plants, fragrant trumpet lilies, and neon birds of paradise among his favorites, his wonder and smiles at the facts she fed him making her heart feel warm. This world of greenery was becoming something Steve was more than happy to take his first steps in, and (y/n) was more than glad to hold his hand to walk him through it.

To Steve’s pleasant surprise, after a while of comfortable silence, he realized not a single person amongst them had recognized him, let alone bothered the two of them upon their little excursion into the world of botany. (Y/n) joked after he’d mentioned it that horticulturists, botanists, and herbalists were far too busy tending to their botanical children to care too much about anything else. He said a silent thank you for that and chuckled as they made their way to the variety of seeds and bulbs which had been the main objective of their trip. The sight of almost an entire wall full of sunflower seed varieties made Steve instantly anxious. How the hell was he supposed to choose from all these options?

In what was becoming the strangely usual fast, (y/n) picked up on Steve’s nervous energy without him saying a word, instead reading the tightness of Steve’s jaw, and the crinkle of worry between his eyes.

“Hey Steve, can I ask...why sunflowers?” she said, hoping the question would guide Steve out of his headspace. He knew just why, but he still gave it some thought, hoping to articulate the reason just right without seeming too corny or silly. She waited patiently, Steve never feeling a rush to open up, and decided that even if it did sound a bit sappy she’d probably be as kind about it as ever. He gave a deep sigh before he finally spoke:

“Because they’re so...human,” he said. Her head gave a little jolt of pleasant surprise but she didn’t interrupt him with any of her own thoughts and he took that as a cue to continue. ”They’re beautiful but they’re a little awkward aren’t they? They get so tall and goofy looking when they sway around in the breeze, gives them a lot of personality. Sorta’ like those inflatable men they got in front of the shops nowadays” he said, recalling the first time he’d seen one of those bright red things flopping around in the cold wind on a trip to the neighboring bodega, it had put a smile on his face. “But what I love most about them is the way they bloom,” he continued, “ It’s such a vulnerable process: bright, wide, and so  _ open  _ to being seen and appreciated for what they are. When we looked at a few a ways back in one of the greenhouses I never noticed their centers are actually just a bunch of smaller flowers and aren’t we all a bit like that? Ultimately wanting to be pried open by the warmth of someone else’s light and  _ just be seen _ and loved for all the smaller things we wish others would notice about us? I think they connect with us that way, I mean look at how often they’re chosen as symbols and subjects of paintings, Van Gogh’s interpretation especially. They’re beautiful for the most wonderful and human of ways.”

She was silent, Steve looked at her fearing any and all possibilities of a negative or even mocking reaction, but instead he found the most beautiful smile on her face as she seemed to gaze at the floor, nodding in mistified thought. The stress from months before instantly beginning to dissolve, the weight of a super-soldiered Atlas lifting. It was amazing just how powerful it was, the sight of something so genuine, something he hadn’t realized he needed for so long: the sight of someone  _ actually  _ listening to what he’d had to say.

“Steve...that’s beautiful,” she said finally looking up at him and gazing into the blue of his eyes, “I don’t know if you know this but sunflowers are also one of the most resilient flowers to plant. They can withstand a lot of heat and thrive in  _ full  _ sunlight. I’d say you’ve made a perfect choice. A flower much like yourself...It’ll be such a  _ special  _ and more than welcome sight in our garden.” Steve felt his heart just about ready to burst in his chest at her words, the feeling of being understood in just the way he needed and which allowed him to feel at peace with his own thoughts felt like a salve for his soul.

“Thank you. For that, for all of this. I would have never thought I’d be doing anything like this, but you never really know what you need till you try, huh?”, he said gazing at her with some unknown affection, “Now...how do I even begin to choose a variety!?”

Steve blushed a little at this new feeling, of slowly opening up to someone about things outside the realm of his unbelievable and unrelatable world and having them actually appreciate it. It was something he rarely got from anyone, with the exception of Sam and Bucky of course, but he often found himself holding his tongue for their comfort.

“Well! You mentioned Van Gogh earlier, and these beauties,” she said pulling a packet of seeds from their slot and handing them to Steve, “are the variety he so famously painted. They’re called Sunbeams, I guess cause of that gorgeous bright lemon yellow and spectacular green ring they got going on in the middle that makes them look like they’re radiating sunlight.”

She proceeded to reach for another packet of seeds, handing them to him so he could look at the pictures indicating just what the seeds would ultimately grow in to. “There’s also these fun little variety! They look like funny little pom poms, they're called Teddy Bears. They’re perfect for planting in pots since they grow kinda shorter than most. They’re also fitting for someone who’s quiet literally a giant Teddy Bear” she said with a wink.

Steve felt heat the likes of hot lava rush to his face and began to rub at the back of his neck in a fluster, managing to muster up a thank you to the sweet compliment. (Y/n) chuckled at how red Steve had become, it was quite cute like most things she was starting to notice about him. “I think I’ll go with the Sunbeams,” Steve said, “They’re perfect.”

“Good! If we’re planting those we gotta build a raised flower bed, the soil isn’t loose enough for them to  _ really  _ thrive and root down in the garden. Usually I’d be lazy and just add compost, fertilizer, or something but come on, when I got this much muscle to work with why not put it to good use? I got a perfect spot in mind too!” she said, Steve bursting into laughter at her words.

Steve’s face would only continue to get redder than before as she grabbed his hand and began to pull him towards what he could only assume was in search of a register, guiding him quietly but happily through the maze of the greenhouses. It was probably not a conscious gesture he thought, but it was a surprisingly welcome one. He smiled to himself relishing in the simple joy he felt at her touch and the pleasantly normal memories she’d given him on this day. He would be grateful for them for as long as he lived.

They paid for the seeds, (y/n) asking when Steve had free time so they could take

a trip to the nearest hardware store to gather the necessary supplies for the raised beds. She wanted Steve to be involved in every bit of the process, to really feel like he had a space all his own, and he was beyond happy and more excited than he’d ever been in years to participate in the culmination of his sunflowers.

They agreed to meet in a couple of days time again, (y/n) having a few things to tie up at work whilst Steve had luckily been given a couple of weeks off. The chaos of the trial  _ and  _ standard mission duty he’d had to juggle throughout the previous years had earned him that much at least. Of course, if there was a high level mission that required the presence of Captain America, he’d be on call.

It was a much deserved break, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to use it to the fullest and plant beautiful flowers with an equally as beautiful woman to guide him...

 


	3. Chapter 3

The days went by in a flash. They’d decided to walk to and from the hardware store just a couple of block over, it was closer by way of Steve’s apartment so meeting there had been a no brainer. Going early in the morning had been ideal as well, (y/n) had been sure to be conscious and prioritize Steve’s sense of privacy. He had insisted that carrying a couple of small beams of lumber wouldn’t be a problem for him, and subjecting her to New York City traffic would be downright cruel if she’d driven them there. Steve had also confessed that he’d wanted to walk for selfish reasons, the strolls they’d taken together were some of the most tranquil moments he’d had in years and he would like more of them if it was ok with her. The honesty of Steve’s statement had made her smile and a soft heat rush to her cheeks, she was glad he couldn’t see the bashful look on her face when they’d discussed it over the phone.

 

The morning of (Y/n) found herself as planned clutching on to a piece of paper with Steve’s address written on it in neat cursive letters. She’d already put it in her phone, but something about the messy but still delicate looking scrawl of his handwriting calmed her nerves. She was prone to getting lost; she glanced nervously at the address and the numbers on the building just  _ one _ more time to be sure she’d gotten it right. She rang the buzzer to Steve’s apartment when she’d finally felt secure enough that she was in the right place.

Steve’s deep voice came rumbling through the intercom a few moments later to disrupt her antsy thoughts: “Hey (y/n)! Let me just grab a couple of things and I’ll be down in a few!” She gave him a simple “Alright!” in reply. Waiting on the old stairs of Steve’s brownstone, she decided to pass the time counting windows on the buildings across the street. She’d gotten to 25 when Steve finally made it outside the doors of his building.

It was obvious he was trying to not be recognized, she really didn’t blame him. Being constantly bombarded by strangers had to get a little annoying, even for someone as kind and courteous as Steve. He wore a navy Brooklyn Dodgers cap and a pair of sunglasses so dark she wondered if he could even see through them. She always found it a bit silly when people tried to go unnoticed that way, it only drew attention to be quite honest.

Her train of thought was lost when her eyes fell on the matching blue henley that clung to every rippling bulge in Steve’s massive arms and torso; the well fitted black pants which accentuated the impossible shape of his waist to broad shoulder ratio practically had her head swimming. She’d always found him handsome, it was a known fact that Steve Rogers was undeniably attractive, it was like saying the sky was blue. But the sight in front of her had stirred in much  _ different  _ feelings, ones she really didn’t need to be dealing with. A simmering heat crept up her body and got stuck in her throat, a sudden and startlingly dryness taking hold there. And to make matters much more embarrassing it resulted in her succumbing to a small fit of coughing when she’d tried to take in a deep breath of air to talk. Steve quirked an eyebrow in concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked, turning to face her, a worried frown appearing on his lips and an unbelievably warm hand placed on her shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah...Yeah I’m fine! I’m good! Throat was just a little...dry I guess. Let’s get moving shall we?!” she said, voice much too loud and a little too high to sound anywhere near convincingly okay. The absence of Steve’s hand as it fell from her shoulder was like temperature shock but thankfully he didn’t pry further. She cleared her throat one more time as a means to compose herself as they made their way down the street to their destination. Steve following behind in a small mist of confusion.

  
\------

The walk was pleasant enough, the sun was casting a bright glow between the early morning clouds. It was a brightness the likes Steve was becoming used to in (y/n)’s company; it was like sunshine followed her around. He appreciated the comfortable silence that had fallen between them through the halfway point of their journey, the accompanying sound of footsteps around them creating a lulling buzz, but part of him wanted to know more. Maybe it was the growing fearlessness to connect with another person outside of “work” but Steve realized he didn’t know much about (y/n), hell, he knew far more about the genus of plants than he did her now.

So he mustered up the courage to pry just a little. “(Y/n) where’d you even learn all this stuff? There’s not very much gardening around Brooklyn, let alone the city. Did you grow up here?” he said. A small grin began to grow on her face, a memory was passing through her mind he guessed, a happy one.

“My grandmother. I grew up just outside the city, but she grew up around here. When she got married she moved out there in the suburbs of sorts, raised her kids and that’s where most of us stayed. But grandma learned to garden from her own mother, they were from a culture of agriculture I guess. She taught me everything she knew growing up, my father didn’t really care to pick up on what she’d learned, so when I was born she practically raised me out in the garden while my parents worked.” she said, a distant but soft look in her eyes.

“She taught you well if the garden is anything to go by,” he replied, giving her one of those crooked smirks that he was starting to notice made her pulse run a little faster (he could practically  _ hear  _ it) and he’d be sure to do it more often,“She must be proud of what you managed to build with what you learned from her too. I can only imagine watching the care you put into someone blossom like that is a great source of pride.”

“Thank you Steve, the success of the garden I owe to the community coming together to learn and grow alongside the plants and each other,” she said, bowing her head in timidity at the compliment, “but I’m sure she would have been proud. She was however, incredibly happy that I decided to move to Brooklyn after graduation. It’s a shame she never got to pay the garden a visit before…she died. But, she’s there, I’m so sure of it!”

“I'm sorry...about her passing. I didn't mean to-” Steve had begun, but was quickly cut off as (y/n) stopped in her tracks and faced him.

“It's ok Steve. You didn't know. It hurt for a while, but she gave me so much more to hold on to. The garden, it's what keeps her with me. Thinking about her is bittersweet, but I’d rather remember than ever forget her” she said. The flicker of memories was in her eyes again, a grin growing on her face only to be accompanied by watering eyes.

Steve couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to grasp her hand, squeezing it gently in comfort. He would have hugged her, held her tightly in his kindness, but even Steve knew a boundary was still in place, one he'd needed to respect. She looked up at him and sniffled, a small teary giggle springing forth as she wiped her eyes.

“This is supposed to be a fun field trip to the store! No more crying! God I'm sorry!” she laughed, letting go of his hand and giving his bicep a small punch in appreciation, it felt like hitting a concrete wall. Steve looked down at her, a slightly worried but kind frown directed at her. He lifted the sunglasses off his face, a courtesy to the words he would say next:

“(Y/n), I just want you to know that...you’ve done so much for me, more than you realize. There's no need for apology, you have a right to confide or rely on me the way I have come to with you. It wouldn't be fair to continue  _ this...”  _ he said, gesturing between the two of them, “...in a one sided way would it? I want us to be friends, you make me feel content in a way I've missed for a very long time. I want us to be good AND honest friends...if that's ok with you?” he said. She looked at him slightly startled, her face a mix of things Steve couldn't quite read, until a blindingly broad smile was beaming up at him.

“You're right,” she nodded, “Although I already thought we were friends Steve! But I'd love to be your friend. How could I not be friends with the nicest man on earth?!”

The two of them couldn't stop smiling at the other, it was if the world had stilled itself for just a moment. Steve had felt that only a few times in his life, the shift of a puzzle piece being set in place. The most recent had been on the day he took his first step in the garden and met her. The woman in front of him was his  _ friend  _ now, his actual friend who didn’t have to part of his shared world of pain and duty just to make a connection. It was a great blessing, one which Steve told himself he would not fear to sustain as selfish as it could be.

\---------

They’d made it to the hardware store in no time after that. The rest of the trip there had been woven with Steve’s strolling down memory lane. He’d recounted when buildings hosted the ghosts of places he’d frequented as a child and ones where he'd gotten the shit kicked out of him to both their amusement. The bittersweet look of nostalgia flooded his face and it made (y/n)'s heart ache with both fondness and sadness for him.

Feeling out of place in a world you used to call home must have been such a daunting and lonely feeling, but she held onto hope for Steve. As much as others seemed to persist on labeling him as “ _ the man out of time _ ”, she had come to have the great privilege to appreciate that Steve Rogers was an incredible survivor. As out of place he might of seemed sometimes, Steve was also intelligent, resourceful, kind, adaptable, and empathetic enough to start to survive in his new realities.

She admired him for it; it took a lot of inner strength and courage to learn to navigate not only the changing currents he once knew how to tread, but to also learn to navigate the complete unknowns which being in his line of “work” threw at him instead. Others might've run, hid away at a change of reality such as that, but he felt a sense of duty to continue to help keep others safe. Steve Rogers was truly a man worth admiring and she wished so desperately that others could get to know the absolute gem of a human being she was getting to. She smiled to herself as they walked into the store, relishing in the privilege of being called Steve Rogers’,  _ not  _ Captain America’s, friend.

A boisterous accent heavy voice greeted them instantly: “(Y/N)!!! GOOD TO SEE YAH!! WHAT’LL IT- HOLY SMOKES IS THAT CAPTAIN AMERICA?!” Her eyes shot to Steve, who’s neck began to flush red, probably in slight disappointment at being recognized, sliding the sunglasses off his face in defeat; there was no use hiding now. She placed a gentle hand on Steve’s arm in assurance that he’d be ok here, the hardware small store seemed to be vacant with exception of the two of them and the owner.

“Hiya Rudy,” she replied eyes rolling with a knowing smile, “Rudy this is Steve Rogers, Steve this is Rudy Rodriguez. He’s my go to guy for all my gardening needs.” Rudy came out from behind his counter in a hurry, giant smile plastered to his face as he stretched out a wrinkled but strong hand for Steve to shake.

He was a shorter man, around what one could guess was his 70’s, clothed in the plaid flannel and carpenter’s pants one would assume a guy who runs a hardware store would wear. He had a thick stark white mustache that matched a lush head of white hair which contrasted with his beautiful dark brown skin. He also had the friendliest smiling eyes in all of Brooklyn and Steve felt calmer as he bid Rudy a hello and a hand shake.

“Wow, if I woulda known Captain America was payin’ me a visit I woulda’ cleaned up a little better today!” he chuckled, rubbing at the light stubble on his cheeks with his free hand, the other still gripping Steve’s.

“Please, call me Steve. It’s not problem, you should see me in the morning” he replied with a smile. (Y/n) noticed the mask starting to creep its way back on to Steve’s face. It wasn’t the cold professional one, no this one was more so the one he probably put on for everyday encounters. The wall in his eyes was rising a little, a guarded courteousness and accommodation beginning to take over there. But then she chuckled, Steve giving her a glance of amusement as she noticed Rudy had not yet let go of Steve’s hand, an awestruck smile on his face.

(Y/n) cleared her throat, “Uh, Rudy I need some supplies. Me and Steve here are building a raised flower bed for the garden” she said, hoping Rudy would snap out of his starstruck daze.

He finally stopped staring at Steve, dropping his hand and looking at (y/n) with an apologetic but happy smile. “Of course, of course! My apologies, it’s just not everyday you get Captain America waltzin’ to your store yah know? What’daya need, mija?” he said.

“The usual. I wanna walk around and get the smaller stuff myself, just need my standard 2x4 beams and a couple more of them custom cut for the ends, you know the drill” she said with a wink at the old man.

“You gonna need me to get one of the boys to put them in the car when I’m done cuttin’?  _ When one of them gets here… _ ” replied Rudy with a grumble.

“Oh no, Steve here’s gonna haul them off himself” she said, elbowing Steve lightly in the side with an incredulously goofy look on her face. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe he could carry the lumber a couple of blocks with no effort, she just couldn’t wrap her head around the idea of it until she saw it. Rudy gave a whistle of disbelief, it got a chuckle out of her, and that charming scarlett tell of Steve’s came back.

“Best come with me son. (Y/n) knows her way round here, plus I’m gonna need you to get a couple of them down for me out in back. I usually have my boys around here to help but they’re running late as always” the old man said with a comical frown of annoyance, and a wink for Steve. He turned and scurried off leaving Steve with no choice but to follow, giving (y/n) a quick look and a shrug of acceptance. She giggled at the idea of someone probably younger than Steve referring to him as “son” and began her search for the items she needed. She hoped Rudy wouldn’t pester Steve too much about his being Captain America, she adored the old man but he could be incredibly nosey.

She was reaching for the final item on her list, a box of galvanized screws, when Steve suddenly showed up at the end of the aisle, watching as she serenely looked for the screws,  never having made a single noise. She jumped when she finally turned in the aisle, becoming aware of his presence and dropping the box as she crashed face first into his more than firm chest. Luckily, Steve caught the box before they could hit the floor, screws rattling as they landed in his large palm.

She laughed in mild annoyance, “Jesus Steve! How long have you been standing there?!” He gave a deep chuckle that made her knees wobble a little.

“Just a couple of seconds! Here I thought you’d need this, yah know cause of earlier?” he said, handing her a bottle of water she hadn’t noticed him holding. She felt her face grow white hot as she looked at it before taking it from him. She could have sworn steam might seep from her ears as she dwelled on the embarrassment of the real cause of her coughing fit, but also because the absolute charm of such a sweet gesture.

“Oh god, uuuuuh thanks,” she said with a small nervous laugh, throat tightening again, “Are you and, umm, Rudy done?”

Steve smiled widely, “Yeah, he’s a character that Rudy. He was telling me about a couple of places that are still open from ‘my time’. Real nice of him actually.” There was a lightness there again, Steve probably having grown comfortable with him, it was hard not to be charmed by the stories and the stellar energy of Rudy Rodriguez. It was hard not to fall in love with Rudy's ever present smile either.

“Maybe we can check them out someday, when you’re free of course,” she said, feeling a tad shy, fingers fidgeting with the bottle cap before she took a quick sip of water. Steve’s smile grew much wider than she’d ever seen it, his eyes practically sparkling. She was absolutely dazzled.

“I’d love that,” he said, “Should we go pay for that and head back now?” Pointing at the basket of supplies looped on her arm with a nod of his head.

She shook her head in realization, had she been staring? God she’d been staring. “Yeah, yeah. We should do that” she said. She could’ve sworn she heard a low rumbling chuckle as she passed Steve on her way to the counter.

He paid for their things, he insisted on it actually, “They’re my flowers after all!” he said. Rudy called Steve a gentleman and said he’d hoped to see more of his favorite new customer around. She rolled her eyes at that, retorting with a simple “ _ Hey! I thought I was your favorite customer!? _ ”

They laughed until Steve with little to no effort lifted the tied together beams of lumber that had been leaning against the counter and rested them on his shoulder; it was scarily effortless, as if he was picking up something as light as a feather.

Rudy looked flabbergasted. Sure, Steve had helped him take down the lumber from a shelf on the wall in the backroom but seeing him lift  _ all _ of them over his head had been something else. And (y/n) had gone instantly breathless, the flexing of Steve’s biceps and chest as he effortlessly lifted and curled his arm behind the planks of wood like delicate little figures was truly a sight.

Steve gave her a lopsided and devilish smirk, a simple wordless  _ I told you so _ . It made

her whole body catch fire in one quick sweep. She reluctantly looked down at the floor in a sense of overwhelming bashfulness.

“ _ Ok so he's really that strong _ ”, she thought to herself. The thought of how easily he could probably pick her up crossed her mind, hands suddenly and unconsciously opening the bottle of water in her hand. She took a quick gulp. God what was her deal?

“It was a pleasure meeting you today Rudy. We should really be on our way” said Steve with a chuckle. He used his free hand to shake Rudy's again.

“Yeah, I’ll ah....I'll see you soon Rudy. I gotta put in an order of fertilizer n...next week.” she said, keeping her mind on the task at hand.

“Good! Have fun building that flower bed  _ yah lovebirds _ ” he yelled, as they exited the store.

Their eyes went wide, shooting Rudy a look and gaping like fish as they waited for one or the other to say something to the contrary.

“It’s not like that Rudy!” (y/n) finally managed to shout back as the door she'd held open for Steve began to close. Rudy’s laughter and the sweet jingle of the doorbell seemed to mockingly seep their way out of the closing gap in the door, Steve’s face flushed red, a mortified look on (y/n)’s face as they turned to walk. Neither one said very much as they began walking back to the garden, the air between them a little awkward and dense with unspoken thought.

 

But unbeknownst to each other the feeling of a little flicker of  _ something  _ began to bloom the center of their chests from Rudy’s words….


End file.
